I have an obsession, possibly even a compulsion to turn random shit on walls into dada-esque photogr(art)phy. The way dadaism was explained to me was this: I was at one of my first, shitty retail jobs and we were on lunch break. One of the cool IT girls–she had wispy blond hair, limbs like willow branches, and a face like the May Queen, the May Queen of IT–sat in the smoking corner with the rest of the cool kids and somehow we got to talking about art. She majored in art. She was doing IT to pay the bills. She stood up and took the metal folding chair she sat on and placed it against the wall. Then she reached over, into a clump of weeds growing by the building and picked a yellow dandelion blossom (no stem included here) and a few of the little clovers growing beside it. She then went back to the chair and put the yellow and the green on the top edge of the back rest. She turned to us and said: that’s basically it. Something “random” put with something else “random” to make “randomness” or nothingness if you want to be more specific. But whatever, I didn’t major in art. After that little lesson, whenever I encountered a piece of visually appealing randomness I photograph it.
A few days ago I went to a museum that is also a WWII battleship (and submarine). It was the coolest thing ever. Here’s random shit on the walls:
And here’s one of the ceiling:
And here’s a plushy, cuddly tank: